


Checks and Balances

by MusicalDefiance



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anxiety, Dancing, Fluff, Kisses, Light Angst, M/M, Many Smoochies, Masquerade, Romance, and i gift them to you from thine own heart, cute boys in cute suits, i was blessed with masquerade suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 19:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16561592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalDefiance/pseuds/MusicalDefiance
Summary: "He notices a second too late that Ryuji’s placed his hand on his shoulder, a gesture so warm and comforting that even his guarded walls hadn’t realized it. He looks over and sees Ryuji’s smile, gentle and childish, but emanating a glow of care that outshines every outrageous light in the whole room.“You can do it though, man. If anyone’s got this shit down, it’s you.” He beams, “I believe in you.”Akira doesn’t though. He grabs Ryuji’s hand and runs."-Akira attends a political gala that can make or break his future career, and he's stressed beyond belief. On the brink of a "mental shutdown", there's really only one thing there that he knows can give him back his sanity.





	Checks and Balances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toomanyunfinishedfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomanyunfinishedfics/gifts).



> "If there were some amazing force outside of time  
> To take us back to where we were  
> And hang each moment up like picture on the wall  
> Inside a billion tiny frames so that we could see it all, all, all,  
> It would look like..."  
>  _-Time Adventure, Rebecca Sugar_
> 
> They released those official prints of everyone in cute masquerade outfits and I died and this just came to me.
> 
> Highkey dedicating and gifting this to [toomanyunfinishedfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomanyunfinishedfics/pseuds/toomanyunfinishedfics) (aka Chiri) because they've been my biggest supporter with both this and just my writing in general as per late. I'm always kicking myself down and she never ceases to lift me up. So thanks, dude, I really love you a bunch and value you as a fantastic and close friend. Sorry I've murdered you like three times with this fluff garbage lol. Please enjoy! <3

Akira hates going to parties like these, so much.

He knows why he has to, completely understands it more than he seems to let on to all the adults that chide him over it, but he still hates it. The way everyone acts all prim and posh, the way they give secret handshakes under the table, the way that their eyes move from side to side and survey everyone in the room like it’s a feeding ground. Yoshida-san isn’t much a fan of it either from everything he’s told him, but he gets why they’re necessary. It’s to make connections, to spread their message farther across different ideologies and mindsets. It’s supposed to help him grow to where he wants to be, to introduce his platforms to those around him who are going to think he’s nothing but a little kid in a suit for the time being.

He understands why he does it. He just  _ really  _ doesn’t like it.

Rooms like this make him think of back then— back when they had to run around a gaudy cruise line and fight through ballroom after ballroom just to make their way through such a grotesque place. This one isn't too far unlike that. It’s golden and shimmery, covered in national symbols and drowning itself in its own ritziness, and he supposes he can see where that despicable piece of shit got his ideas from. Akira remembers almost choking when he found out it was a masquerade party a few weeks ago, and it’s definitely hitting a little harder now as he looks around the room, a shockwave of post traumatic stress flowing through him as he peers at everyone’s faces, masked and closed off from what they’re really thinking or doing.

He finds some slight comfort at least in the fact that he has his own, like a familiar friend. He hasn’t felt like he’s needed a physical one in a good while, but in this situation he welcomes it with open arms.

The one solace that he has is the fact that Yoshida-san offered him the opportunity for a plus one right off the bat. It’s pretty normal for parties like these. Most executives that attend are men with wives that love being dolled up in their finest silks and pranced around like the exotic and beautiful trophies they sought out to be. It’s an opportunity to mingle and exchange business just as much as it is an opportunity to show off what you have. It makes Akira kind of sick to think about, but when the offer came to him, he was more than happy to take him up on it.

The choice was obvious. He honestly felt bad asking about it, especially because it’s not his style, but Ryuji’d enthusiastically said yes like no was never even an option.

They’d gone suit shopping a week before the event. Akira thanks his lucky stars every day that he still has savings left over from their thieving days, and that his new job pays him well. A lot of that money goes off to more practical things like college tuition and textbooks, and when he’s running low on cash he has to scrape through with some extra help at Leblanc (not that he ever minds), but he definitely has more than enough money to cover the both of him to his alleviation. Ryuji’d wanted to pay for it himself, an incredibly sweet gesture knowing his bank account, but there was no chance Akira was going to let him do that. Not when this was something that just he had to do.

Besides, he’s also  _ very _ lucky that Ann has so many ties to the fashion industry, all things considered. Discounts can be very hefty and helpful when you have the right connections.

Akira goes with something classic but bold, not caring to stand out more than he already has to, but Ryuji’s choice is definitely a lot more to his style. While Akira’s dressed in a dark maroon, a crisp white shirt laying underneath and pairing excellently with his shining black shoes and stark black vest, Ryuji goes with something far more relaxed; a black and maroon vest paired with black slacks and a grey button down, plus one way too precious neck tie laced over it. He hadn’t found anything in the store that he’d liked tie-wise at the time, but Haru had lovingly sewn him a yellow and blue one that has small pirate-like elements of skulls and swords, but with the print so small it’s still entirely classy enough to be at such an event.

Akira secretly loves that the back of Ryuji’s vest matches him. He tries his best to be really subtle about his relationships and personal life when he’s around these types, but at least that one small thing can signify to him that Ryuji is his.

The party is lavish as can be, full of crystal champagne glasses, overpriced finger foods, and idle chatter. Music from a small string quartet accompanied by a grand piano plays in the background and gives the place a very royal-like atmosphere, especially with the lights dimmed and the shine of sparkle everywhere in the room. It doesn’t make Akira feel as much like royalty as it does make him sick. He doesn’t like places like this, and he feels like he probably never will considering all the things he’s been through.

His mask itches against his face when he crinkles his nose and fake laughs at someone’s poorly executed joke. It’s definitely a lot to have sitting there, but he wasn’t very interested in anything more simplistic. When he’d asked and paid Yusuke to make them for him and Ryuji, he remembers being asked upfront if he’d like something Joker inspired, to which he outright refused without a second thought. That part of his life is over, one that he doesn’t reminisce or think about all too often, and deeply prefers it that way. It’s too hard to think about that part of his past, for way more reasons than one, and if he can avoid seeing that side of him in the mirror again, it’ll be too soon.

He doesn’t get quite as much reprieve when they receive both his and Ryuji’s, because Ryuji’s is a near spitting image of what he used to don, save for a cute eye-patch detail added to the left socket. It seems a little inappropriate for a gala, but it goes along with his necktie, plus no one really ever cares to take these things so seriously when it comes to the people not inherently connected to the event, so he leaves it be. Besides, Ryuji likes it, beams like the gleam of a sun as soon as he unwraps it, and Akira could not and would not even dream of taking that away from him.

Akira’s is more complex, red and black and wisping like fire along the edges. It looks not unlike the aesthetics of Arsene, Yusuke always finding his inspiration in pieces of one’s self it seems, but it doesn’t make him nearly as anxious. As he holds it in his hands, toying with the small feathers along the edges, it actually brings him a small sense of peace. This feels less like an alternate identity, and more like a part of him. He wears it far more confidently, and actually thinks it works rather well for him.

It’s more ridiculous than most of the ones in the room, so he stands out despite himself, but at least he’s fairly comfortable with it.

He gets a guffaw out of one of his associates over a joke he thinks is only worth a chuckle, one so hard he nearly spills the champagne flute he’s been doing far more than nursing throughout the extent of the party. Akira always hates that about these gatherings, how much the adults drink and how little they seem to care about it. Akira’s well old enough to drink himself now, and honestly he sometimes feels like he should be considering all the pressure he’s under, but he always heeds Yoshida-san’s advice in these situations. Holding a glass is fine, drinking from it not so much. He smiles to himself as he remembers relaying that information to Ryuji, his face fallen into adorable disappointment when Akira asked him not to drink during the party, but it’s just the nature of things here. Take a drink too many, and your lips fall loose, leaving you exposed to a number of manipulators who will do anything to get under your skin and make you say something you regret. If you just hold it you at least look engaged, but are still of clear mind.

He’s incredibly fortunate he has Yoshida-san as a mentor and will take his advice to the grave, but  _ god  _ sometimes he wishes he could just chase away that stress with a sip or two.

He peers over to the side of the group, rolling his eyes as another one of the men makes a crack he doesn’t find even remotely laughable, and off in the corner he can see Ryuji standing with his leg propped up against the wall. He sighs quietly, eyes scanning across his boyfriend standing so far away from him, looking incredibly distant and bored. He’d been more than welcome and even invited to come and stand with Akira and share in the conversation, but somewhat expectantly he’d chosen not to. Akira isn’t terribly surprised by his decision though— this isn’t really a place suited for him. If there’s one thing he knows Ryuji hates, it’s definitely being surrounded by hordes of adults that are blowing more smoke out of their ass than they even seem capable of carrying.

The look on his face is definitely bored, but not necessarily dismayed or irate. Still, just looking at it is beyond enough for Akira to feel that guilty pit in his stomach for bringing him along. He feels bad that he’d even asked in the first place, and honestly it may have just been better for him to go and do this on his own, but he really wanted someone else he knew to be there. Yoshida-san is wonderful company, but he does have his own things to attend to, and Akira can’t expect him to baby him at these things forever. He has to be mature and handle them on his own, because that's how it works in the real world.

The sight of Ryuji has him distracted now though, beyond enraptured by just how well his attire fits him, both clothing wise and aesthetically. How handsome he looks is actually criminal, from the way his shoes contrast with the rest of his outfit to how the silver chains hanging from his vest shine in the amber light of the ballroom, and he can’t help but feel like it’s all such a  _ waste _ . They should be out somewhere, running around the town like idiots and feeling fancier than they should. Swiping glasses of wine from unexpected partygoers and laughing when they look confused as they run off into the night.

But those are all kid things, and he has to be mature about this stuff. It’s the only way he’ll be able to make it in this world, and it’s the only thing that gets him to tear his sight away from his far too beautiful boyfriend.

Time passes as slowly as most of his conversations do, and from one to the next he’s just as unimpressed as he seems to come off unimpressive. He feels like he slips up every word, feels his tongue swell when asked about thoughts on this matter or that, and he definitely sees one or two of the men’s wives give him an unamused eye. He bites his tongue, feeling a strong weight pushing down against him that can and will bring him to his knees, but he can’t for the life of him fight away the source or pull himself out of it. It’s just so much, he hates all of it so much.

He’d practiced for this night for actual weeks. Working with Yoshida-san has afforded him a lot of privileges to learn and grow under the stigma of so many rather scummy people in the political world.— despite the fact that they managed to change the city’s heart as a collective, politics are still politics, meaning that they’re bullshit no matter how you slice it. So he’d spent most of his nights pouring over everything he’d learned in school, all of his textbooks and all of his notes, reading over newspapers and keeping himself on top of current events. His time in the Phantom Thieves had made him cynical to it all, frankly, but he cares about it enough to want to try and make a statement regardless. One way or another, it matters to him.

When he’s like this though, alone, put under pressure, he feels all of it slip away like it was never there— that’s always been the thing holding him back. His debates are never as strong as his opponents’. His points are never given with as much conviction as those against him. He never feels like his mind is sharpened or attuned to where it needs to be when he’s put under fire.

He used to be so good at flashing different masks, but now he feels soft and vulnerable, poker face gone into the sunset without a trace. How has he managed to fall so far?

He remembers a long time ago when a certain someone had accused him of being the only thing that made the Phantom Thieves worth targeting— the only thing that kept them motivated and afloat. He doesn’t find that to be much of the case nowadays.

When he stumbles over another sentence and gets another scrutinous eyebrow raise, he chooses then to excuse himself, offering to bring the man he’s speaking to a newly filled glass on his way back. If nothing else that gets the skeptical look off of his face, and he’s more than happy to hand off his empty one to Akira for him to fetch another. He bows politely, just like he’s always been taught, and makes his way nowhere close to the refreshments table.

“How you holding up?” he asks Ryuji quietly, setting both glasses on an unused pedestal next to them. Ryuji looks up, somewhat surprised to be addressed, but smiles as soon as he can see who’s in front of him.

He shrugs, “Same old same old, kind of a drag of a party if ya ask me.” he says, placing his arms up lazily behind his head as he leans farther back against the wall. “I dunno how you do it, man. Everyone here just keeps repeating the same old shit like it makes any sense. It all just sounds like jargon to me, like it has no real rhyme or reason. Maybe I’m just too dumb for it but I dunno.”

Akira chuckles, “You’re far from dumb, believe me.” He takes his place beside him, choosing also to lean against the wall and keeping his arms crossed in front of him, somewhat protectively. He feels like he has to in order to keep the sliminess of the environment off of him. “Most of the guys here are lobbyists and lawyers, people who are trying to work their way up into the system with money and nice conversation. Some of them definitely do it a lot…  _ less  _ conventionally, but either way it’s kinda nice to try and get on their good side.”

“Why would you wanna do that?” Ryuji asks with a questioning eyebrow.

Akira shrugs, “They’re the guys that line your pockets for your campaign.”

Ryuji shakes his head, “All seems kinda scummy to me.”

“Trust me, it is, but that’s kind of how these things go.” He sighs, “I hate being at these damn things, never feels like any real progress gets made. It’s just elitists trying to get cash in their wallets and worm their way up to the top.”

“I’m surprised Yoshida-san’s cool with all this. He seems really chill, and super not into the whole sleazy businessman part of it. Surprised he’d even want you to come to this shindig, hate that you have to do it at all.”

“It’s just part of the process.” Akira says, and while he’s trying to sound astute about it, his tone comes out more like he’s complaining. “He’s still just a Diet member, and if he wants to get up to Prime Minister he has to shake some hands and flash some smiles their way. It’s all dumb, and he hates it too if he’s told me right, but I have to know what it’s all like if I want to get into it myself.”

“Dude, that bites.” Ryuji groans.

“No kidding.” he laughs back, closing his eyes and exhaling long and slow.

But Ryuji has no idea just how much it does. How much the stress of just being in this room is killing him. How all these fake smiles and mockfully respectful bows make him want to gag. How absolutely fucking  _ tired  _ he is, both from standing here and staying up in the dead of night to keep looking over everything he needed before now, and none of it’s doing him fucking  _ anything _ . He can still hear Morgana in the back of his head, getting on his ass about how he needs to rest, about how none of this can be any good for him, and that he won’t do well out here if he can’t keep himself together. But god, he just  _ can’t _ . Couldn’t even if he tried. His exterior may be calm and collected, but internally he’s nothing but a war zone, begging to be let free or be shot in the midst. He’d accept either at this point.

But then there’s Ryuji next to him, so carefree and at ease. He feels like seeing anyone else act like that in here would make him irritated and uneasy, but from Ryuji, it’s the only thing that brings Akira any sense of calm. The fact that even in such a stupid mess of absolute bullshit and fakery, he can still give Akira that soft little supportive smile. That even in this place where he should feel cast aside and on edge, he’s complacent and calm and just stationed there so Akira doesn’t have to feel alone. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t gripe about him being there, but instead does more so that  _ Akira  _ has to be there, a sentiment he could  _ not _ agree more with.

He notices a second too late that Ryuji’s placed his hand on his shoulder, a gesture so warm and comforting that even his guarded walls hadn’t realized it. He looks over and sees Ryuji’s smile, gentle and childish, but emanating a glow of care that outshines every outrageous light in the whole room.

“You can do it though, man. If anyone’s got this shit down, it’s you.” He beams, “I believe in you.”

Akira doesn’t though. He grabs Ryuji’s hand and  _ runs _ . 

Ryuji doesn’t get any time to protest before Akira’s yanking him along with him, bolting out of the room with a speed he hasn’t achieved since the last time he ran out of a collapsing palace and throwing his mask to the ground like it never caused him anything but strife. He can hear questioning murmurs chase after him through the darkened, empty hallway he runs through, but it doesn’t dissuade him, not as long as they don’t follow him on his way out. He’s been in the Diet building a good few times before and knows his way around it well enough, even in the dark he can make his way through. They’ll be out of there in no time if he can just—

Ryuji making a small pained gasp and faltering back on his leg is the only thing that stops him.

“Akira, what the heck are you—?”

Akira doesn’t let him finish. He grabs his face, rips off his mask, and drags his mouth onto his, pressing them together desperately like it’s the only thing keeping him alive while Ryuji’s mask clatters to the floor. Ryuji makes a startled noise, but ultimately follows suit, grabbing at Akira’s waist and pressing himself to him with just as ferocious a hunger. Yes,  _ yes _ , this is what he needs. To just forget everything, even if only for a few minutes. To just drown himself in Ryuji so he can think like he’s supposed to again. Just for a minute, just for a second,  _ please _ .

None of this matters and it never did in the first place. How can it when even after they’ve sacrificed everything the world is still just as disgusting a place as it was before? How could he have been so stupid to think for even a moment that he can make changes, that he’s strong enough or powerful enough or wise enough to be able to stop the constant impending doom the world is spiraling in? There’s no reason for him to give a shit. There’s no reason for him to focus on anything except the one and only thing he cares about more than  _ anything _ .

He doesn’t stop, he  _ can’t _ . He doesn’t want to feel anything but Ryuji’s hands on him and his lips against his for the rest of time. Doesn’t and couldn’t care less that only a few hallways down there’s about a hundred adults that are his entire future, and to see him making such a display would surely ruin him. No, he doesn’t care, he  _ doesn’t _ . He doesn’t care about anything.

Just Ryuji. Only Ryuji. Ryuji, please just take him away. Do it, do it before he can’t take it anymore.

Ryuji’s the one that ends up breaking them apart, placing his hands against Akira’s shoulders and pushing him back, and Akira moves back and  _ whines  _ when he can’t stretch his neck far enough to capture Ryuji’s lips with his own again.

“Akira!” he whisper-yells with a pant, more aware of the echo his voice has on the hallway than Akira is. “D-dude, what’s wrong with you? This is really sudden, what’s going on?”

Akira shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter,” trying so hard to get his lips back against his, but Ryuji’s hands are strong and won’t let him budge. “Ryuji,  _ please _ .”

“Akira, this is a bad time.” he reasons, and the look on his face must be pitiful since he follows with, “Don’t be like that, you know I’m right. This is your big night, you’re supposed to be in there kicking everybody’s ass like you always do. We can do this later.”

“I don’t care about that!” Akira almost shouts, stamping his foot with the conviction of a toddler, and Ryuji presses an index finger to his lips to keep him quiet but he doesn’t care. “I don’t care about any of this, I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“Dude, ain’t this important to you?” he questions, sharp and harsh with his voice raising despite his best efforts. “This is an effin’ big deal, it’s your future we’re talking about. You got important people in there you need to talk to more than me.”

“You’re  _ more  _ important.” And he stretches up and kisses him again.

Ryuji relents this time, his grip on Akira’s shoulders much less intense than prior, and Akira gets to drink in the wonderful feel of his boyfriend for a few more blissful seconds before he’s forced with a gentle push to separate again. He almost feels like crying as soon as his lips are left bare.

“Akira,” he tries again. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on with you, but you know how big of a deal this is. You’ve been working on this shit for weeks, maybe even  _ months _ . You can’t let these weird assholes get to you, you’re so much better than all of them.”

Akira has to try and stop himself from sniffling. “I’m not though. I’m a failure, I can’t do anything right. I’m messing up everything and they all know it. I’m just… I’m so  _ fucked,  _ Ryuji...”

“You know that ain't true.” he says, hands moving to hold onto Akira’s face instead and tilting it to where their eyes meet. “Dude, what’s goin’ through your head right now? You’re all over the place. I can’t read your mind.”

He whimpers, full on goddamn  _ whimpers  _ when Ryuji says that. Because he knows that, and he wants to be honest with him, but he can’t articulate it the way he knows he needs to. Just like everything else that he’s done tonight, his words are left tied up in the back of his throat, trying to be let loose and just never finding their ground.

Ryuji looks at him then, really looks at him, eyes focused as though he’s the most confusing puzzle he’s ever seen in his life. Maybe he is, honestly. Akira’s always been pretty good at hiding his emotions, managing to fool even the toughest of scrutinizers no matter how hard they try to read him. It doesn’t always work to his advantage, now being a prime example, but it’s about the only semblance of control he has over himself anymore that he can take at least  _ some  _ pride in.

But Ryuji isn’t like most people. He’s been able to read Akira like a book since the day they met years ago, no matter how hard Akira tries to make sure he can’t. He’s always paying attention, always able to look past that barrier Akira puts up whether he realizes it or not, and how he does it he’s sure he’ll never really know.

But none of that’s important, because after a moment Ryuji’s pushing Akira back and up against the nearby wall, slotting their lips together and catching Akira off guard with a startled whine in his throat.

“I’m so _goddamn proud of you_.” he whispers to him, before pressing their lips back together, soft and sweet. Akira’s confused by that, but it doesn’t matter anymore because Ryuji’s lips are back on his and he can melt away again just like he wants. But then he stops again, another whisper of, “You’re so great and you’re working so hard and I’m _so proud and so effin’_ ** _lucky_** _to be with you, ‘Kira_.” and pressing their lips back together.

Akira’s starting to get whiplash immediately, because every time Ryuji’s lips come back he gets to re enter his happy place, that hazy nothingness void that he can hold his breath in and just feel nothing as someone else takes all sense of control from him. But then he keeps parting, keeps telling him things in sweet and gentle whispers that make his heart clench and go uneasy.

“I love you.” he says. “You’re amazing.” he says. “You’re so beautiful.” he says. “I’m so happy I get to be with you.” he says. One after the other, all working in tandem to make his heart beat out of his chest. All working in tandem to make him feel warm and soft on the inside, breaking away at that concrete exterior he’s made his outsides.

He goes on for what feels like hours, kissing against his lips, the corners of his mouth, his cheeks, his jawline, leaving him small appreciations in each one of their wakes. Akira is putty in his hands, wrapping his arms tightly around Ryuji’s neck to keep him as close as he can while Ryuji holds his neck and the small of his back tenderly. There’s just enough force there to keep Akira in place, but loose enough to where Akira could tear himself away if he really wanted to, not that he could even physically bring himself to do that if he tried. He’s completely melted, limbs jello and joints useless.

He feels like he’s dreaming, like the nightmare part of it is coming to a close as the handsome knight rescues him from the castle. Like soon enough he’ll have to wake from all of it and have to go back to this world’s cruel reality. But luckily for him he can still clutch tight with his hands, prick his nails into the skin of his forearms till they turn red, and that sting of pain is enough to let him know that this is real and he’s safe no matter what the rest of him wants to believe.

It's so easy to lose himself to every touch, every kiss, until all of his worries are whispering away in a dissipating fog. Not disappeared, unfortunately, because life isn't that kind and there is still business down the hallway he'll have no choice but to drag himself back to, but it's so much more...  _ bearable _ now. Like all the doubts and fears screaming in his mind are being dragged out by their heels one at time, leaving him empty and sated.

He’s thought a lot about how fortunate he is many a time in preparation for tonight, but the thing that he’s most fortunate to have is and always will be Ryuji. Ryuji, who put aside his distaste for this side of the his life just so Akira would be comfortable. Ryuji, who’s always excited and happy and pumped to be by his side no matter what, finding the best out of every situation no matter how dire. Ryuji, who’s put his life on the line for Akira in more ways than one, whether actual or metaphorical, and never once complained or expected him to pay it back (though he tries to, constantly, as much as he can). Ryuji, who has never gone a single day without telling Akira he loves him, that he’s proud of him, that he wants him to be careful but trusts him, that he’s his absolute best friend in the entire world and nothing will change that. And even if he doesn’t do it in words, he does it in his actions beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve him. But he’s still here, holding him, drowning him in his affection and reminding him that he’s a person that has love on his side that he can never lose. When the fuck did he ever get so lucky?

When the  _ fuck _ did his face get all wet?

Ryuji’s the first to notice and break away, hands immediately going to Akira’s face and eyes bugging out of his head as concern consumes his expression. “Akira, are you okay?” He’s reeling back a bit, hands shaky and uncertain. “I didn’t, I mean… I didn’t do something wrong did I?”

But that question is ridiculous, almost as ridiculous as everything else going on, and he manages to break a smile through with a cough and say, “No, no, I’m sorry… I’m just… I’m so  _ happy _ you’re here…”, voice cracking and all.

The smile on Ryuji’s face is doughy and soft in an instant, and he pulls Akira towards him again, lips slotting together in a touch so tender that it makes Akira nearly fall to the ground in a limp puddle. He’s held stationary only by Ryuji’s hands on him, one leaving his face to wrap around his waist and hold him there tightly, like he’s the only thing in the world that matters to him.

The feeling is mutual.

He pulls away, and Akira lets him without protest. His face rests in Ryuji’s palm, oversensitive and clammy, but he’s so tired and the support is the only thing keeping his head up. Ryuji just gently cascades his thumb across his face, wiping what feels like stray tears from his eyes and across his skin, leaving them smeared in damp patches on his cheek.

“Course I’m here, dude.” he says, like nothing interrupted the conversation. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

"You didn't have to be.” he reminds him, voice veering towards regretful. “This whole thing is so dumb and I would rather do  _ anything  _ else but be here, and there’s no way you feel any better about it.” He shakes his head, “But you are, and I’m just… I’m so grateful, so  _ happy _ . You will never know how much it means to me… You’re the only reason I haven’t gone insane yet."

“Mm…” Ryuji hums, pulling him closer and rubbing his thumb up and down his face again. “Jeez, Akira, if I’d known you were this freaked out about the whole thing, I would’ve convinced you not to go days ago. Why the hell are we even here?”

A sigh escapes his lips, “I have to be, I can’t let Yoshida-san down..” When Ryuji gives him a look he relents, “Okay, I can’t let  _ myself  _ down either… I worked so hard for this, but I just feel like I’m fucking everything up, like nothing I say makes me sound confident or surefire about anything. And if I can’t convince anyone that I know what I’m doing or that I care about it, I’m not going to get anywhere.” His shoulders slump, “This is more stressful than any Phantom Thieves mission ever could have been.”

That gets a sympathetic smile on Ryuji’s face, “So much for not caring about this stuff, huh?” and he kisses Akira’s forehead when he groans and pouts. “No dude, I get it, totally. This is a lot of shit you’re havin’ to deal with. The big wigs, the scumbags, the money grubbers, all in one effin’ room actin’ like they’re all hot shit— it makes me effin’ sick. But that’s a big part of the reason you wanted to do this shit in the first place, right? So you could weed ‘em all out, so you can go and unmask their true colors and let the good guys win one for once. I’ve heard you rave about it for hours, how you want to make sure no one’s ever allowed to just manipulate their way to power again. How you want to give a chance to all those people too scared to stand up to them. Wasn’t that your whole thing?”

He has to think about that for a minute and lets out another much easier exhale. “Yeah, it is.”

“Sounds pretty damn confident and surefire to me.”

Akira actually feels himself smile. “Maybe.”

Ryuji grins back. “Besides, this party’s kinda lame, but did you  _ really _ think I was gunna let you deal with all those shitty adults all by yourself?”

He laughs a little, or at least tries to, "Aren't we kinda the shitty adults now anyways...?"

Ryuji laughs too, "Yeah, but I get to be out here with you now, don't I? And they don't. So I must not be  _ that _ shitty."

“No, not a chance. You’re just… perfect.”

Ryuji leans in and kisses Akira again, his touch so sweet and supple that Akira’s amazed that he can even breathe anymore. It doesn’t matter though. Nothing matters more than Ryuji's hands on his face, thumbs cascading across his cheek bones and brushing little tears that decide to hang around away. Nothing matters more than their lips connected, taking all his breath away.

Nothing matters more than their hearts beating together, like they were always meant to.

When they both part from one another, somewhat begrudgingly, Ryuji smiles. "You definitely look a little bit better now, dude."

Akira looks up at him. "Was I not pretty before?" he asks with as shitty a grin as he can muster.

"Course you were, idiot.” he says, tapping his face with his palm. “Still are, you just don't have that effing scowl on your face anymore."

He exhales a little, and he can feel the easy dopey smile lacing across his now swollen lips without any effort. "I have you to thank for that. You always know what to do."

“I wouldn’t say  _ always _ .” Ryuji laughs. “But yeah, I don’t want you to have to feel shitty anymore. If you wanna go home I’ll be the first to smuggle you outta here before any of them have a clue. Wouldn’t mind keepin’ you all to myself for a little while anyways.” he adds with a smirk.

Akira rolls his eyes and gives him a little shove. “Weren’t you the one saying this was important or something?”

“Yeah, but you’re  _ more  _ important, right?” he asks, skimming his lips across his ear.

He chuckles and pushes him back again, ignoring the blush creeping up his face and to his ears. “Yeah, but I don’t want to have to explain to Yoshida-san that I ran home for that. I don’t know if it’s more embarrassing to admit that I’m just a scaredy cat or that I was ready to get dicked down.”

Ryuji shrugs but can’t hold back a chortle, “Fair enough I guess.”

“Anyways though, I really mean it that you being here makes everything easier. I know you don’t like this stuff, but you’re still here, and that’s more than I could ever ask for. So thank you, I love you.”

Ryuji just pulls his face in and kisses him again before saying, "I'm always here for you, man, and I love you too. I hope you never forget that. Even when you're all big and famous and shit and everyone’s trying to knock you down again like old times, I'm still in your corner. Forever."

Akira can’t help but beam. Ryuji’s been in his corner since the very beginning, and he certainly can’t imagine him being anywhere else now.

It feels as if, despite his limbs feeling weak and his mind now floating in a pleasant haze, he's back at full strength and better than ever, ready (not willing, but  _ ready _ ) for round two of fake smiles and polite laughter and conversations that he'd rather not be a part of, but at least now he can hold his head high with the reminder that no matter what, he always has someone to fall back on, someone who’s always ready to catch him.

He exhales a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and realizes all the tension he’d been unknowingly harboring in his shoulders has vanished. “Holy shit…” he breathes, stretching them up and down and exhaustedly laying his head against Ryuji’s chest. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

“I’ll say, you looked like you had the whole goddamn world on your shoulders for a minute there.” Ryuji chides, patting the top of his head.

Akira smiles sheepishly against him, “No, just in front of me.”

“God what the _ heeeell _ .” he groans, pulling his face back up and kissing him before Akira can laugh at the blush shooting through his face. “You’re so effin’ lucky you’re cute, or I’d sock you in that pretty mouth of yours.”

He gets to laugh at that, “Probably wouldn’t be the best idea for me to come back red eyed  _ and  _ bruised.”

“Oh shit that’s right!” Ryuji exclaims a bit too loud. “Dammit, your effin’ gala thing! We’re just standin’ out here talking about it and it’s still going on! How long has it been, you’re not gunna get in trouble or nothin’ are ya?”

Akira glances at his watch on his wrist. It’s only 9:32, there’s still another hour and a half before it ends. They’ve probably only been gone about ten minutes, despite how long it felt in his head. “No, we should be fine. It hasn’t been that long.”

Ryuji sighs in relief, “Thank god for that, I don’t think I could deal with ruining tonight for you.”

“You’ve done nothing but make it better, trust me. But I guess we should head back, as much as I kind of don’t want to.”

“You need anything from me? A distraction, public annoyance, maybe even a baseball bat? Haven’t doe much of that stuff since we were in high school, but I can be anything you need me to be, baby.” he plugs with a wink.

Akira rolls his eyes, “None of that, thank you, but your offer is very kind.” And then he pauses. “Um, actually though… You don't have to do this if you really don’t want to, but do you think you could uh, come and stand with me in there?”

Ryuji blinks, “Really, you sure?”

He nods, “I know you don’t like these kind of crowds so if you really don’t want to it’s totally okay with me, I promise. But I uh, I don’t know, I feel like I would feel better if you could just—”

“Dude, of course I will!” he shouts back, cringing as his voice echoes around him and Akira has to choke back a laugh. “Shit, man, if I had known I would have been hanging around you the whole time. I just didn’t wanna get in your way. Do you know how effing  _ boring  _ it is being a daisy on the wall or whatever the hell it’s called at these things?”

“Wallflower.” Akira corrects with a smile, “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner.”

“Well at least I know now.” He lets go of Akira, stooping down to pick his mask back off the ground and offering it to him. “How ‘bout we mosey back over there then, yeah?”

He takes it, but then with just the tips of his fingers tosses it flippantly to the side and looks at him with a shit eating grin. “Let’s, but this time we do it our way, yeah?” he mimics.

Ryuji’s face matches it in no time flat. “Let’s.”

They make their way back to the party, faces bare, hand in hand and not caring an ounce that half of the room is looking at them. Akira makes nervous eye contact with Yoshida-san as he walks in, but all worries are cast aside when he smiles, seemingly just relieved to see that he’s alright. It’s all the affirmation he needs to know that he’ll be fine, the night's still young. Akira can start his rounds again, but this time his plus one is much more like he should be— beside him, arm around his waist or through his own, right where he belongs.

Ryuji’s not great at the political discussions, and Akira would never have asked him over for that anyways, but he definitely does make a great distraction for his nerves. When the hard questions come, Ryuji’s hand is a reassuring and gentle squeeze against Akira’s side. When he hears him misstep on a word or two, he pats him on the shoulder, even playfully shakes him a time or two with excuses and laughter that seem to buy him time. When Akira makes jokes to others that don’t land, he’s always laughing the hardest, and before Akira realizes it they’re both laughing like they’re the only ones in the room.

Faces around them change, going from disapproving to amused and invested in a matter of minutes. The tone quality of voices shifts, and instead of gruffs and groans as men walk away, they’re actually laughing and offering handshakes. Akira doesn’t stand there and take criticisms without retort, he fires back, but rather than being off putting they’re all seen as welcomed. He even swears he sees a woman in her husband’s arms or two smile at him with a look only a mother could offer.

It’s all different,  _ so  _ different, and the only thing that he’s changed is Ryuji being at his side. Ryuji laughing with him and holding him and just showing off as a part of him. It brings so much more out of him like nothing, more than he’d ever expected to show.

Akira often times feels like hiding his face in the crowds— one of those things he knows deep down that he picked up from his days as a Phantom Thief, but now he’s lighting up like the brightest of skyscraper lights in Tokyo. There’s no mask anymore, whether physical or metaphorical. He’s Akira now, just Akira, like he should be.

And he’s the most himself when he’s around Ryuji.

Out of nowhere he feels Ryuji pull him away when a conversation ends, tugging on his arm and spinning him into his chest like some kind of smooth debonair move. Akira blinks, confused, but then only just begins to realize what’s happening when Ryuji snatches one hand in his and places the other firmly against his waist, using the swing of his hips to pull the both of them into some swaying steady beat along with the music.

“What are you—?”

“Think we need a break from all of that for a minute.”

“Ryuji, this isn’t a—”

“Who’s to say it isn’t?” he interrupts with a wink.

Akira can’t argue with that.

They dance out of nowhere, in the middle of the party, surrounded by onlookers who look just as confused as Akira did a moment ago. The two of them are laughing though, smiling as brightly as the giant chandeliers hanging over their heads and cracking up as Akira spins Ryuji around like a ballerina dancer. It’s silly, it’s childish, but it’s  _ them _ . It’s the two of them finally getting to be themselves for the first time since they’d arrived.

To both of their surprise, people start joining them.

To say the entire room is interested in their antics would be pushing it, but it’s fair to say that a good many are. Before long women are pulling men into their makeshift dance floor, smiling and laughing alongside each other as they begin their own little slow dances around the two boys. Soon enough almost half of the room has joined their sudden dance party, and seemingly enjoying themselves along the way as the music picks up and the air of the room becomes lighter.

As conversation dies and the atmosphere changes, Akira and Ryuji spin through the room and the crowds at their own pace, eventually ending up outside of the door and back into that dark hallway just outside the room. It’s colder out there than it is in the ballroom, noticeably so, and Akira takes both of his hands back to wrap his arms around Ryuji’s neck, holding his warmth close to himself and burying his head into his shoulder as they move back and forth in gentle, quiet motions while the music plays through the echoing hallway.

“Think you’re feelin’ a little better now?” Ryuji asks him quietly, breath just barely cascading across his ear and making him shudder.

Akira nods, “Yeah, definitely. Thank you.”

Ryuji chuckles, “Wasn’t me, man. You did all the talkin’, I just hung out and acted like I knew any of the shit you guys were blabbin’ about.”

Akira laughs himself and shakes his head, pulling himself back up and placing his clasped hands against the back of Ryuji’s neck. “Didn’t need to, the fact that you were there at all helped me get through it. You being here in general just… makes everything better.  _ You  _ make me better, Ryuji, I really hope you know that.”

“Yeesh, really layin’ it on thick tonight, huh?” he asks, taking one hand off the small of his back to push Akira’s bangs up and lay lips tenderly against his forehead. “I could say the same about you for me though. S’always been that way, since we became friends and up to now. But you’re always busying yourself with takin’ care of all of us. Think it’s time someone else does that for a change.”

“You don’t need to worry yourself over me, you know.” Akira reminds him.

Ryuji shakes his head, placing his hand back where it was and pulling him closer. “I hate when you say that shit, you know? You’re just as important to all of us as we are to you. Hell, you’re even  _ more  _ important to me, and I’ll personally kick Ann and Mona’s ass if either of them try to fight me on it.” He smiles when Akira laughs openly at that. “You’ve always been there for me, and I’m gunna be the same for you, no matter how many boring ass suits I’m gunna have to keep seeing you wear every day when you’re a big shot.”

Akira gives him a pitiful pout, “I thought you liked my suits.”

“I do, they make you look cute as hell. But it just means you’re goin’ to your big fancy boring adult job and that’s lame.” He smirks, “I just prefer you a little looser, like when we were just kids.”

Akira smirks right back, “I can always be a little looser when I get home.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” he says with a sly look.

They both laugh just before Akira pulls Ryuji’s face in to kiss him, the lights from the cracked door of the ballroom just barely illuminating their silhouettes against the hallway wall.

“I love you, Ryuji. So much....” he breathes when they part, laying his head against his shoulder and closing his eyes.

“I love you too, Akira, more than you know.” he says back, bodies pressed together as their shadows dance in the light.

  
  
  
  


“Hey, ‘Kira.”

“Mm?”

“I can feel your phone buzzin’.”

“Mmn…”

Akira doesn’t want to check it. The subway’s cold and his feet hurt and Ryuji’s the only source of warmth he has in the chilly tile surrounded air. Since they’d gotten to the station he’s been plastered to him, head on his shoulder and arms locked firmly around his waist, Ryuji’s body likely being the only thing keeping him off the floor. Having to shift his position even a  _ centimeter _ to grab it out of his back pocket is way more trouble than it’s worth.

They’d left before the party ended, but it was definitely for the best. They were far from the only ones making their way to the door anyhow, so it wasn’t like it was in bad taste. You can only waltz around a ball room for so long before you get a bit sick of it. Besides, Akira can only do so much talking when he’s this exhausted.

Well, he can probably do  _ some _ .

“Is there any reason why your hand is on my ass right now?” he asks, not even bothering to open his eyes. His chin bounces on Ryuji’s shoulder when he laughs.

“Just thought I’d grab it for ya while you’re too busy bein’ a baby. Didn’t think you’d mind too much. Besides, if it’s this late it could be somethin’ important, you never know.” he says as Akira feels the thin device slip out of his back pocket. “If it’s Boss or ‘Taba askin’ where you’re at, I’ll just tell ‘em we’re on our way home.”

“Best boyfriend ever.” Akira mumbles, nuzzling his nose further into his neck..

“More like most enabling.” Ryuji chides as he brings the phone around. “I gotta stop letting you get away with being a princess.”

“I’m the prettiest one though, you said so when you saved me from the tower.”

“Sure, but some days I’d rather give you back to the dragon.” he says, chuckling when he feels Akira pitifully slap at his stomach. “Oh hey, looks like Yoshida-san’s textin’ ya.”

“Neat.” he dismisses.

“Wow, sure he’d  _ love _ you blowin’ him off like that.”

He groans, “Fine, read it for me, I’m too sleepy.”

“Anything for you, your highness.” he says with an unseen eye roll. Akira can hear the small electronic blips from his screen as Ryuji types in his password by memory, sighing as he lets his body fall even deeper into Ryuji’s. He shouldn’t be so lazy, but the warmth of him mixed with the cold air of the subway platform have him twisted in such a deadly sleep inducing hold that he couldn’t fight it if he tried. Ryuji offered anyways, so it isn’t so bad is it?

His warmth is sinful against him— it should be illegal.

“ _ My boy _ ,” Ryuji reads, “ _ So glad that you seemed to have a great time at the gala tonight and hope you’re making it home safely. Many of the attendees were very impressed with you tonight, you should be incredibly proud! _ ” Ryuji beams and leans his neck down to him, lips pressing against his head. “Hey, what do you know? Guess ya did better than you thought, huh?”

Akira smiles to himself and clings tighter. “Mm, tell him I said thank you.”

“Oh, hang on he’s not done, still typin’.” He shifts back up waits a second before he starts again, “Oh, there we go. _ I hate to bother you with this because I know you’re tired, but Tanaka-san implored with me this evening that he’d really like to meet with the two of us for lunch on Monday for some conversation with you. He really enjoyed speaking with you and would love to hear more. I know it’s late but if I can hear back from you soon as to your schedule, I’m sure he would be appreciative! _ ”

Akira shoots up, “Wait,  _ who was that again? _ ” He grabs at his phone, which Ryuji quickly relents to him, and stares at the screen as he holds it in both hands. “Holy. Shit. Tanaka-san wants us to go to  _ lunch? _ He wants to talk to  _ me? _ ”

“Someone important?” Ryuji asks.

Akira turns and blinks at him in near disbelief, “Tanaka-san is the goddamn  _ Minister of Justice _ . He’s in charge of the Judicial system, one of the most important Cabinet members in the legislature, and he wants to talk to  _ me _ .” He holds his forehead in his hand, “I can’t fucking believe it… I don’t even remember if I ever actually talked to him, it’s all a blur.”

“Holy  _ shit, _ dude!” Ryuji yells out, shoving his arms underneath Akira’s and picking him up from the floor, spinning him before letting him fall back to the ground in his arms. “You did it, I’m so effin’ proud of you! This is only the beginning, it’s all up from here!”

He laughs and melts in his hold, “Couldn’t have done it without you. Not tonight, not any of what’s been going on with this, hell not even anything since before all this.” He pulls back the slightest bit and looks him in the eyes, “You’re my greatest treasure.”

“Watch it there, man, you might get a palace sayin’ shit like that.” he chuckles, tousling his hair a little. “Hey though, this is great! We oughta celebrate, I’m still kinda bummed out I didn’t get to drink any of that fancy shit back at the party. We could always pick something up on the way home.”

Akira smiles, just before slumping forward and landing even further into Ryuji’s embrace. “Mmmmaybe…”

“Or maybe not, that energy didn’t last long, huh?” Ryuji laughs, kissing the top of his head. “Tomorrow might be better anyways— gotta get you to bed, sleepy head.”

He nods, “Bed sounds good.” Just as he finishes the alarm for the incoming train rings out through the platform, and moves to push himself off. "Thank you again for coming with me by the way." 

Ryuji leans forward and kisses his temple just before he can pull away. "No problem, you know I'm always by your side"

"Mmm.. I know." he says back with a yawn.

Ryuji laughs, "Dude, we gotta get you home stat, you're no good with this shit."

Akira hums, "Haven't been since back then, everything makes me tired now."

"Cuz your ass is getting old, dude."

Akira jabs him in the ribs once before taking his hand and Ryuji just laughs. “If I’m getting old that means so are you, genius.”

He shrugs and says, "Fair enough.” as the train pulls in, still smiling like a kid. “Sure you can even walk over there, grandpa?”

Akira rolls his eyes, “I’m fine, jeez.” and starts marching them forward despite his snickering. “I’ll be better when we get to the last transfer, I’m ready to be out of these shoes.”

“ _ God _ , could not agree with you more on that one.”

As they head towards the train hand in hand, doors opening with a satisfying  _ shink _ , Akira takes a quick moment to reply to his mentor before the train can take them underground. He finishes as they manage to sit down in the nearly empty car, the train graciously giving him a decent amount of a grace period before it decides to start closing its doors and pulling them away from a phone signal.

**October 20, 10:46 PM**   
_Akira:_ I’d be delighted! Tell him I said thank you so much for the opportunity! Couldn’t be more appreciative!

He goes to put his phone up, letting Ryuji’s arm slink over his shoulders and leaning against him for both purposes of support and greedily sapping his warmth away from him. Just before he does though, he feels it buzz again while the train makes its last alarm before the doors of the car close.

**October 20, 10:47 PM**   
_Yoshida:_ Wonderful! I’ll be sure to tell him immediately!   
_Yoshida:_ By the way, I noticed you ran out tonight, but you came back and seemed to be doing much better. Very glad to see you finally feeling at ease with this environment. You’re going to do great in this world.

Akira smiles, eyes training to the screen in interest one last time as the typing icon pops up just before the train starts moving.

**October 20, 10:48 PM** **  
** _Yoshida:_ You have a good one with you. I’m happy to see someone of youth so happy and in love. He’s a good fit for you and I’m glad you brought him along. I hope you keep him.

Akira almost laughs and wants to respond, but doesn’t get a chance before his service blinks away. He can always do that later though. Instead he puts his phone up and lets himself fully rest on Ryuji’s side, closing his eyes and letting the lull of the train riding along its tracks take over his mind completely. It’ll be fine, Ryuji won’t let them miss their stop. He’ll just hold on tight until they get there.

Don’t worry though, Yoshida-san. He has no intent of letting go.

**Author's Note:**

> "Will happen, happening, happened,  
> Will happen, happening, happened,  
> Will happen, again and again,  
> Cuz you and I will always be back then,  
> You and I will always be back then, that's why,  
> You and I will always be best friends"  
>  _-Time Adventure, Rebecca Sugar_
> 
> Feel free to yell at me on [Tumblr ](http://musicaldefiance.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/MusicalDefiance) Probs gunna draw my own art for this eventually like a jerkwad lmao.


End file.
